Laughing Matter

Two of the top local contenders in this year’s Seattle International Comedy Competition get sassy.

Drew Barth, 28

Comedy m.o. Clean, harmless. Someone once called me the Clark Kent of comedy, probably because I look like him. I like it, but more because I think appearances can be deceiving.

Favorite joke I had a garage sale recently, because things are going well. And while I was kind of prepared for the haggling that people were going to do, I was blown away by their bizarre questions. I had a guy ask, “Hey, do you have any antique guitars or musical instruments?” “Uh, yeah, this place actually used to be an old Hard Rock Cafe. Let me just dig around in the back here… Now, do you want all of Eric Clapton’s guitars or just the ones he used when he was in Cream? Tell you what, while I look for Elton John’s gold piano, why don’t you give that bread maker another look.”

On Thanksgiving I often feel bad for Thanksgiving. Sure, it’s a holiday with some questionable morality behind its origin—but, in the end, it’s all about family. And whether it’s a small gathering of loved ones or a time to assemble your entire lineage for a game of “I Hope We’re Not Blood Related,” everyone makes an effort. It’s over the lake and through the suburbs to grandmother’s assisted-living complex we go.

Nancy Reed, 53

Comedy m.o. Wiseass wisdom

Favorite joke My grandfather was born in 1900 and made whiskey during Prohibition. He said there were no drunk driving problems when he was young because everybody still rode a horse. The horse knows its way home—it’s not going to run into other horses just because you’re drunk. He said the worst thing that could happen is that you would get on somebody else’s horse and end up at their house.

On Thanksgiving When my daughters were three and four, their day school took them on a field trip to a turkey farm. They came home determined never to eat a turkey. Thanks, child development experts! I called my mother, and she said, “Put them on the phone.” After a few uh-huhs and okays, they hung up, and said, “We are having turkey!” I called her back, to see what she told them: “I told them that turkeys are mean, horrible animals, and they deserve to be eaten.”

This year, we have one vegetarian, one who’s on the wagon, one who hates football, and one that can’t have dairy. We will work it out. I’m excited. At least my now-teenage grandchildren won’t be texting.

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